War Cry And Other Drabbles
by Silver Orbed Lioness
Summary: Drabble: Draco is violently assaulted for harming what was not his
1. War Cry

**Disclainer** : JK Rowling owns all. Even Rabastan but as she does not like Slytherins I am hoping she will lend some out to me... lol.

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 **Pairing** : Hermione Granger/Rabastan Lestrange

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 **Triggers** : Public Sex. Enemy Sex. Sex.

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 **WAR CRY**

"We shouldn't be doing this!" Hermione hissed.

The wizard smirked as he guided her small hand to his crotch. "Tell it to my friend here."

Shocked by the size, she rubbed the trapped bulge.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," the tone teased and excited her, NOT sorry at all that he was pressed against her.

"We're in a middle of a bloody battle and you're a Death Eater!"

The sea green eyes sparkled merrily, shoulder length raven hair swept down the Wizards back. Hermione subconsciously twirled the strands between her fingers.

"Again," he murmured huskily. his lips latched onto some exposed flesh. "Your point is?"

Hermione's heart thudded in her chest. Adrenalin pumped through her body, landing in her core, dampening her knickers. The wizard growled as the scent wafted up to his sensitive nostrils.

"I'm a Mud..." quickly she found the objection blocked by a hot, searing, tongue-tangling kiss that knocked her knees and curled her toes. The wizard used the distraction wisely, sneaking her school robes up over her hips.

"All I see is a woman who little Lestrange likes."

"Rod..." she gulped.

She had an inkling of her captor but it did not figure until now. Still somewhat stunned she was in an alcove with a stranger ravishing her. Truthfully, Hermione was too turned on by the idea of sleeping with the enemy that she did not object and now she was faced with a lusty wizard who was married too...

Hermione glanced up. Mirthful eyes twinkled playfully: "Wrong brother!"

He used his wand to divest them of clothes. Hands immediately zoned in on her breasts like they were the iron draw to his magnet.

"Y-you're Rabastan?" she whimpered. Talented lips latched on her pebbled teat. "This isn't..." she rolled her head back and allowed him to feast on her breast.

"You have no idea how much I've lusted after you, witch!"

With that Hermione's paper thin resolve dissipated. She felt her legs lifted and curled around strong hips. By the feel of his length along her seam she had a pretty good guess to his statement. Not even bothering to ask if she was ready he violently thrust into her, causing her to scream and claw at his taut buttocks – digging her nails into the soft flesh – drawing blood. His shark-like grin was all Hermione could make out. His mouth trapped hers again in a passionate kiss. He thrust deeper into her, bringing her to another high.

"Like that!" was all the usually erudite witch could say.

"I'm not finished yet, witch!" he exclaimed.

He pushed, thrusting into her as hard as he was sure she could take it. Moans, mewls, growls and snarls of amour were left unnoticed as the battle around them grew louder.

"RABASTAN!" she yelled as she climaxed.

He bit into her neck, tasting her blood: "Yes, and don't forget it, dear!"

He withdrew – incisors dripping with blood.

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 **AN** : This was in response to a drabble game, just for fun, for **Smut Saturday** on **Hermione's Haven** a Hermione-Centric Facebook Page.


	2. A Confrontation

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling and Warner Bros own the world of Harry Potter and everything in it.**

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This is a drabble I just wrote. **Word count: 864**

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 **Marcus Flint/Katie Bell; Adrian Pucey/Hermione Granger**

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 **Summary:** Marcus and Adrian aren't happy with Draco when they find out the witches they wish to own were hurt - or could have been.

 **Rating:** **T** for violence

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 **A CONFRONTATION**

Draco sat in-between his parents – it was the Christmas feast and the second he'd attended in close proximity to the Dark Lord. Not only that but he was re-acquainted with Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey and others he could barely stand in the first place. However, his standing had diminished along with the downfall of his father. He was thinking of the confrontation he had when Marcus entered his bedroom.

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The part troll had warded the room once Pucey had also entered. Their dark eyes gleamed with purpose as Pucey stood behind him and Marcus stepped close to Draco who was now quivering in his boots. Adrian grabbed Draco's arm and twisted it behind his back, Marcus grinned maliciously as he tilted the blond boy's chin up with the tip of his fingers.

"Flint," he tried to be brave but he was quivering in his high-end dragon hide boots. "What are you doing?"

Marcus tilted his head. His hair had grown since he left Hogwarts, enough for the fringe to flop down, hiding one dark fierce eye – the other was glinting sufficiently enough to unnerve the blond.

"I heard unpleasant things, Malfoy!" Marcus spat his scowl deepened. Draco was truly at a loss as to how he could have upset his former Quidditch Captain. "Extremely unpleasant things."

"Yeah, like what?" Draco stammered.

It was Pucey's turn to lean in and whisper in Draco's ear, his tone as venomous as the serpent of their house as he hissed: "You see Malfoy, you harmed what was his! Marcus does not take kindly to those who do that."

"I have not been anywhere near his family."

The cold laugh froze Malfoy's insides and what little blood was in his face left so now he was deathly white. Marcus laugh dissipated into a cold chuckle.

"I ain't talkin' bout my family, Ferret!" he sneered. "Oh yes, I know all about that little escapade," his grin showed uneven teeth. "I am talking about a certain Gryffindor chaser and a cursed trinket."

Draco tried to kick Pucey's shins but the older boy's grip was tighter than expected.

"What have I done to you, Pucey?" Draco stammered.

"There's a certain Muggleborn you could have hurt in the process!"

"They're just Gryffindors nothing of importance," Draco squirmed even more. "You two ought to remember what side you're on!"

"Oh we know," Marcus grinned as he patted Draco's cheek. "When our Lord wins we can pick out prizes – my Prize is the chaser Katie Bell the angel of the skies," Marcus leaned menacingly close, so much so Draco recoiled at the stench of cigarette smoke and cheap booze. "You could have left me without any booty if you killed her – I'd have to kill you – instead I'd have to content myself with a few kicks and punches. Magic is wasted on you for what you did to her!"

"Adrian, you can't seriously let this happen!" Draco pleaded.

"Oh I will," Adrian was considerably better looking than Marcus. The looks of Lucifer himself. "Because you know who else could have been harmed?" Draco tried to shake his head but now Pucey had grabbed a huge fistful of hair and viciously yanked Draco's head back causing the rich boy to wince. This left Draco exposed to Marcus punches. "My prize – Hermione Granger, when she stood up to us in her second year I knew what I wanted. She's grown quite powerful but you would have had her dead that year!"

Draco wondered what it was with these Gryffindors. Though that was short-lived when Marcus began his assault. Hitting Draco in places that Narcissa was sure to see. When Draco coughed out blood Pucey let him go so he could fall gracelessly to the floor.

"Remember your new place, Malfoy," Marcus spit on the blond's hair. "Daddy can't even help himself, let alone you worthless little piece of scrote."

Pucey made a point to step on Draco's sore ribs – the two friends laughed at his humiliation. When they left he sobbed on the floor of his bedroom. It was Narcissa that found him and mothered him back to health. When she asked what had happened and why, Draco remained silent. He did not want those thugs to start in on his mother.

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At the table he studiously refused to look at the now young men who had once sheltered and protected him. Marcus was twirling an evil looking knife on the table. The light glinted sinisterly in Draco's line of vision. He gulped and slid down his seat sufficiently cowed.

"Now," the Dark Lord said. "Draco, what have you to report?"

Great, he sighed, I just can't seem to catch a break. Draco's shoulders slumped in defeat as he recounted his list of failed attempts.

That night he lay in bed shaking from the multiple Crucio's sent his way, the most vicious of all by his own aunt.

For the first time in his life Draco began to wonder if it was going to be a Utopia if the Dark Lord won.

He knew only one thing – he'd have to change the next part of his plan. He did not want Pucey's vengeance wrought upon him for harming the bushy thorn in his side...


End file.
